


七年之痒

by sightstone (symmetrophobic)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Canon, Gen, genfic, i promise i'll stop writing pretentious millennial navel gazing prose after this, sorry please accept my love, then why bother amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/sightstone
Summary: Seven seasons is a long time to spend with someone, and Jaewan isn’t quite inclined to spend another seven with Junsik (even if he could), no matter how much money or fame that entails. Retiring with him though- that’s a different story.





	七年之痒

**Author's Note:**

> set somewhere in spring '17 .^. based on the concept of "qi nian zhi yang" or the seven year itch, where a relationship declines because of dissatisfaction building up over the years, but if the seven years are overcome, the relationship becomes stronger than before. idea was put in my head by a precious human bean and i could never quite forget it, so \o/
> 
> i like promising i won't write long weepy canon fics but i also like shooting myself in the foot.
> 
> thanks ray for betaing as per normal i hope you appreciate sungu's presence here
> 
> (also i know it's only seven seasons at a stretch but some seasons (cough winter cough) were a little weird but still good so thank you for still accepting this humans!!!) 

 

“Have you ever thought about going to China?”

Jaewan chokes on a piece of blanched spinach. Junsik ignores him, still deep in thought, a spoon of rice halfway to his mouth.

They’re seated just far away from Sanghyeok that he can’t hear what they’re talking about, and even if he could, Jaewan doubts he’ll have the attention to spare, with the way Seunghoon’s jabbering at him from across the table excitedly on the merits of North American cuisine.

“If you’re going to leave, could you at least-…” Jaewan starts, after chugging down a cup of water.

“Not _now_ , just,” the carry shrugs through a mouthful of bibimbap. “Someday. Maybe. I mean we have to retire _sometime_ , right?”

The support snorts, almost inhaling his rice. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, that’s why Sungung went, right?”

Junsik shrugs- he misses Sungung more than any of them do, Jaewan knows this, and while joking about their captain leaving them for China during this time to pad his retirement fund helps alleviate some of the heaviness that wears down in Jaewan’s bones, the same doesn’t apply for Junsik.

Sungu joins them at the table with his food, then, squabbling with Wangho over something stupid, like underwear ownership, or something, and Junsik turns away, yielding to the distraction easily. The junglers’ conversations don’t make sense unless you hear them from the start, and even then they typically don’t make sense either.

Jaewan doesn’t revive the topic of Retirement, and Junsik doesn’t continue.

It doesn’t mean he stops thinking about it, though.

*

Winter is a tiny monochrome mildly bug-eyed force of nature when their room is concerned.

Jaewan watches lazily as the puppy charges around the room, chasing the remote-controlled car one of the fans had gifted them (they’re getting richer by the day, he swears). He knows it isn’t good to rile her up like this right before the time they’re all supposed to go to sleep, but it’s nice to feel happy once in a while, even if it’s vicariously, through this small furry living thing.

“Have you seen my jacket?” Junsik walks into the room wearing only one sock (as in, one sock and not the other, not literally only one sock), holding a soft Moomin keychain, probably excavated from the growing pile of fan gifts in their dorm. It’s through 5 years of the mysterious phenomenon known as botlane communication that Jaewan knows which jacket he wants.

“It’s in Sungu’s closet. He snuck it out of our laundry because he thought he looked cool in it,” Jaewan says lazily, tweaking the controls. On a better day, one when he doesn’t remember what Sungu had said about Diamond 1 and the people in it, he might have lied (as if Junsik would fall for it).

Junsik doesn’t respond- his eyes are following Winter, now biting impatiently on the car, which had gotten stuck in a corner. “Yah,” he walks over, lifting the car out of reach, and the puppy yaps, trying to stand. “Don’t bite that,” to Jaewan, he scowls. “She’s going to be awake for ages now.”

“Not like we’ll be sleeping anytime soon,” Jaewan watches the AD carry put the car back on the overcrowded shelf. Winter retreats grumpily to another corner of the room, reduced to attacking a chew toy. “What are the rest doing?”

Junsik shrugs, collapsing onto the neighbouring bed with a yawn. It’s been ages since any of them last dyed their hair, and the brown in his is fading, so now it’s just a mess of dark strands over his forehead. He’d just showered, too, so his hair seems longer, almost touching his eyes.

Jaewan doesn’t say a word, watching him toy nonchalantly with the keychain. Then he clears his throat hesitantly, thinking back to the casual Dinner Topic he’d brought up those nights ago.

“So. You been thinking about it?”

“About what?” Junsik drones, like he doesn’t know.

“What you said that night over dinner.”

The other boy rolls over, and the keychain rolls out of his hand, ending up face down on the mattress. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

Jaewan thinks, for a while, about Junsik up on that fancy stage in China, in a strange uniform and laning with a foreign face, and feels a little queasy. For a moment, all he can think about are miscommunications, bad team synergy and shitty macro, but then he thinks about Deft and Meiko, thinks about Mata and Uzi, and his train of thought trips over a pebble.

“Maybe you’ll find a better support there,” he suggests. “Carry the team to Worlds.”

“Yeah?” the other boy squints, like he can almost see it, envision it just around the corner, before he grins lazily, his voice snide and mocking. “Right, while we’re at it, maybe China will win for once, then.”

“Oh, sure,” Jaewan raises a brow, still averting his eyes. “I’m betting on it. 10-time World Champion, RNG Bang, just over the horizon.”

“Ugh,” Junsik rolls his eyes. “I hope we’ll be in different groups, then, I’ve had enough of your face in the LCK, I don’t need to see it when we’re in the LPL, too.”

“Oh, I’m,” Jaewan fumbles a little. “I don’t think I’ll be going. To China.”

There’s a silence that hangs in the air for a while, as both boys stare at the ceiling, and Jaewan feels Junsik’s wondering gaze glance off his temple. There’s an _oh,_ a _what, but I thought,_ hanging in the air, that are never said. Instead, he just asks: “Why?”

Winter starts barking, then, jettisoning out of the room to collide with Junhyung, who’s ambling past outside, holding a stack of clothes. Again, the conversation ends there, as Jaewan scrambles up to go pick her up before she can reduce their number of toplaners to just one, though this time, he’s a lot more grateful that it did.

*

Professional gaming doesn’t create much of a window for Jaewan to leave the dorm. Instead, he has to force these windows open, squeeze them in where there’s space, and while he used to not bother with those in the past, he finds he doesn’t have so much of a choice now.

One such window finds him crammed into a little family diner, the remains of a hearty dinner littering the table in front of him, and a shot glass of soju in one hand.

“I’m practically a fossil,” Bumhyeon complains- there’s a flush in his cheeks which, coupled with the mildly indignant yet lost look in his eyes, suggests something undeniably cute. It’s not a sensation Jaewan’s unfamiliar with, that’s for sure. “I thought it was bad with Wangho, but Boseong’s a _baby._  Just out of the womb.”

“Really,” Jaewan says, sneaking the bottle of soju away from Bumhyeon before he goes any further- it’s not often that the reputed mom of Longzhu drinks (Jongin’s usually more down for that than he is). “Wangho’s enough to handle on his own, if you ask me- I think his addition unleashed some sort of new demon in Sungu. They’re an unstoppable force together now.”

Bumhyeon scoffs, downing his glass. “They’re never innocent, Jaewan-ah. You need to handle them right from the start,” his eyes wander around his side of the table, brows furrowed comically in concentration. “Have you seen my soju?”

“Uh, hyung,” Jaewan blurts in an attempt to distract him, quite unwilling to deal with a drunk Bumhyeon at the moment. “So uh, you ever think about retirement? You know,” he stutters a little. “China? Or something.”

This seems to sober Bumhyeon up a little- he always looks so _serious_ when this happens. The older boy shrugs a little, peeling at the edge of his wet towel. “Well, yeah. I mean, who hasn’t?”

Jaewan doesn’t reply. Of course he’s thought about it. He doesn’t quite know how to continue the conversation- the soju’s dulled him, too, swirling thoughts in his head he knows how to phrase but doesn’t dare to.

“Why?” the other support asks, then, looking up, directly at Jaewan. “Did Junsik ask? Or Sanghyeok?”

Jaewan feels relatively cornered, though of course, he should’ve known Bumhyeon would pick up on that.

“Junsik and I,” he gestures nonchalantly. “Kinda talked about it. I guess. Our conversations were never really. Uh. Complete.”

Bumhyeon’s mouthing idly at the rim of his shot glass, now, and for a moment Jaewan’s almost tempted to return him his soju.

“Did he want to go?”

The younger boy makes an indistinct gesture, a cross between a shrug and a weak laugh. “Probably, yeah,” then, out of desperation, he adds (and immediately regrets): “Did Jongin want to leave too?”

The atmosphere slides into something not necessarily stifled, as Jaewan might have expected, but Bumhyeon is quieter, all the same, mildly regretful.

“I wanted him to go,” he says, finally, taking the glass away from his mouth, but he keeps fidgeting with it, clearing his throat. “He had a bunch of offers. From China, America, Europe, I thought,” he shrugs. “I was ready for him to go. Mentally, at least.”

There seems to be a lot on the other support’s mind, a world of thought neither of them, eloquent as they may be, can phrase into words.

“It’s tougher for supports, Jaewan-ah,” Bumhyeon says finally, softly, glossing over the bumps in the road by jumping to the conclusion directly. “Even if you’re a veteran, no one cares. They’ve got two import slots to spend on- they’ll want someone who can carry. If-… _when_ Junsik decides to go,” he shrugs. “You need to be ready with an alternative. Don’t procrastinate like I did.”

“It worked out for you in the end, didn’t it?” Jaewan says, a little lamely. Bumhyeon laughs.

“I got lucky,” he says, a little wistfully, mostly fatigued, and for a moment, the younger boy feels like he’s intruding on something.

“Better hope I’m lucky, then,” the younger support replies glumly, downing another shot.

It could’ve been the soju, then, but Jaewan swears when he lowers the glass, there’s a half-smile on Bumhyeon’s face, like he knows something Jaewan doesn’t.

“Let’s talk about something else,” the older boy changes tact deftly, then, before Jaewan can ask. “How’s Wangho doing? Does he still leave his underwear under his blankets after he changes or did Kkoma whip that out of him too?”

*

Jaewan’s spending a peaceful pre-lunch early afternoon playing with Winter in the living room, going through the day’s schedule in his head, when a phone screen is shoved in his face.

“It’s Eonyoung, right?” Seunghoon booms out at him- for someone younger than a bunch of people in his team, their starting top sure knows how to push his way around in the team.

Jaewan squints, readjusting the screen so he can see better. Sure, it’s Eonyoung, in a really _stupid_ wig, a dumb smile on his face, and the support tries in vain to hold on to his appetite when SKT’s ex-top does a hairflip over his shoulder.

“Wow,” Jaewan says, and Seunghoon cackles.

“You know we didn’t talk much when we were in America but _damn_. He’s one of _them_ now. SKT Impact who?”

Sanghyeok enters the room, and Seunghoon leaps on the opportunity to show this to him too (as if Sanghyeok would act like he cares) and Jaewan watches Winter charge across the room to fetch a ball.

They’re at the gaming house, Jaewan booting up his computer, when Junsik slides into the seat next to him with some satisfaction, having won an argument with Sungu about what to eat for supper tonight.

“Hey,” the carry ventures, and Jaewan mumbles an acknowledgement- his PC gets slower and slower every time, he swears. “What about America?”

It doesn’t hit Jaewan as hard this time, but he still stumbles. “What? Like, the NA LCS?”

“Yeah,” Junsik shrugs. “They pay good too. And you’ve heard what Eonyoung’s been saying about it. It’s like China, except with less backstabbing and more memes. Plus there’s hot white chicks.”

Jaewan snorts. “ _Hot white chicks_ aren’t your style, dumbass, don’t act like you care. You’re probably going to go there and pine over the fact that you’re halfway across the world from Dahyun.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t stop talking about them,” Junsik rolls his eyes. “So?”

There’s a pause. “I guess the money’s good and it’s fun,” the support relents, and Junsik looks satisfied for a moment. “You’ll have to watch out for the fans if you go, though, I feel like they’d be the type to get pissy if you steal awards from their locals. And watch your health, those In-and-Out burgers look like instant heart failure.”

“Tch, yeah, you say that like you still won’t eat them every day.”

“Oh,” Jaewan halts yet again. “I don’t-…I won’t be-…” then he regrets saying anything at all. He should’ve just left it as it was.

“What?” The carry watches him warily.

“Nothing.”

“…you won’t go?”

Jaewan doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t want to (can’t, more like it) lie, and doesn’t have the guts to say what he’s about to next. Instead, he clears his throat.

“Better not talk about this in front of Coach,” he says, as Junggyun enters the room, and Junsik sighs noisily, going back to his own PC. He’ll sulk for a while, with the way Jaewan’s evading the question, but things will go back to normal soon.

It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, anyway, he thinks, and doesn’t look back when he gathers his things to head for the streaming room.

*

Jaewan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, then, when he dreams a few nights later about an ugly white boat on an endless ocean.

He’s sitting in it, wearing his new monochrome SKT jersey, Winter squirming in his arms, and there’s a sturdy wooden barrel bobbing beside them, drifting with the tides.

There must be a hole somewhere in the boat, or something, because dark, inky water keeps rushing in, swirling around his feet. He feels a familiar but oppressive sense of urgent fear choking him as he struggles to scoop the water out, hold the barrel close to the boat, and handle Winter at the same time.

“Get in the barrel,” he’s trying to force the puppy to safety, but she yelps, unwilling to part, as a strong wave rocks them, making Jaewan feel sick. “Get _in,_ come on.”

The air is thin and cold, the water even more so, and every breath feels like death. Jaewan’s hands are clammy and stiff, like before his first big match five years ago, and he’s dulled, somehow, unable to move properly.

Winter’s barking wildly at him, black and white fur now damp with salt water as she squirms back, unwilling to let go. “ _Fuck_ , hey!” Jaewan snaps at her, frustrated at the situation, because _why can’t she understand?_ “Get in the barrel, or we’ll both drown!”

The water’s up to his calves, now, and he’s given up trying to scoop it out, using both hands to try to push the puppy into the barrel, feeling cold water claim another inch of him with every passing second.

“I can’t go with you!” Jaewan half-shouts, as the puppy barks frantically, trying to claw her way out. “It’s only big enough for you!”

The boat snaps and groans under the weight of the water, wood splintering and disappearing into darkness, and the mouth of the barrel is at eye level now, freezing little waves lapping at Jaewan’s shoulder blades.

“You- have to- _go_ !  _Now!_ ” He looks the little dog in the eye, but she’s beyond reason, latching onto his sleeve- his sleeve that’s not his jersey anymore, just a black sweater. Ignoring it, he makes one last push, upending her into the barrel. “Go!” he yells, as he sinks rapidly, icy water freezing his lungs over, his throat, until it burns the back of his head. “ _Junsik, you have to go!”_

And the barrel capsizes as one last desperate grab is made to hold on to Jaewan, but it’s Junsik, black and white jersey and all, that plunges into the cold water after him.

And Jaewan opens his eyes into faint sunlight, shirt sticking to his back with perspiration, making him shiver violently in the air-conditioning, and wonders properly, for the first time, what he’s going to do.

*

“You know, I was talking to Sanghyeok the other day.”

It’s one of those afternoons that seem to drag on forever (which makes most afternoons, actually) and Jaewan’s procrastinated bringing it up through more than 5 games.

Junsik looks over from his queue screen momentarily, brow raised. “You say this like he hasn’t been stuck in our faces for the past three years.”

“Har har, funny. It’s just,” Jaewan rolls his eyes and shrugs, pretending to reorganise his music playlist. “About America,” he says, and he can literally sense Junsik stiffen a little beside him at that.

“You know. He said, uh. He might go, one day- he’s not all that hot about China. You could,” Jaewan fumbles. “If you uh, wanted, you could like, go with him…? Comfy place, nice food, good pay. It could-…it’ll be good for you.”

Junsik stares at him for a good five seconds, and Jaewan cuts in before he can open his mouth.

“Or, or,” he says quickly. “Sungu. Sungu said he wouldn’t-…you know. Wouldn’t mind going back to the LPL one day. They take junglers and AD carries seriously. They’ll build a team around you, or both of you, if they can afford. There’ll be loads of fangirls and expensive gifts and you could build your entire retirement fund off of one year’s pay. Then you could-…you know. Come home…? If you wanted to-…”

“Hey, listen,” Junsik interjects, saving Jaewan from that fizzling trainwreck of a sentence. His dark eyes are searching and critical, burning into the side of the support’s head. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?”

Jaewan pauses reluctantly in the midst of manually arranging the AOA songs in his playlist by alphabetical order. He should’ve just started a game before this conversation to save himself.

“Uhm.”

“You have a plan and you’re not-…” Junsik hesitates, bitterness edging into his voice the way it does sometimes, when he’s pretending he doesn’t care. “You’re not telling m-…anyone?”

“It’s not-…I don’t have a _plan_ -…”

“But you know you’re not going anywhere,” the carry interrupts. “You’ve been thinking of something else. We could stay, no one wants to go to China and breathe a ton of microdust anyway-…”

“No,” Jaewan says, so firmly he surprises even himself. “No, you’re not staying. You’re going and getting your money and doing what _you_ want to do.”

Junsik scoffs. “What if _I_ want to stay?”

“Do you, Junsik?” Jaewan demands, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Sungu glance over, a little concerned. Lowering his voice, he continues. “Do you really want to stay? _Every_ pro who’s made his name leaves. You could make twice the amount of money you’ve made so far in one year if you go to China.”

“You’re the one who always says _money isn’t everything_ , or whatever-…”

“-And they all say NA’s fun, you’ll get to do things you never could here, meet people of all sorts, eat great food. Life on SKT isn’t _living_ , you’ve earned your time off on a fun team, you’ll get to experience so much more.”

“Then why do _you_ want to stay?”

“Because I can’t leave!” Jaewan hisses in a heated whisper, one that Wangho hears anyway, judging by the way he looks over, then leans over to murmur something to Sungu. Junsik looks half baffled, half annoyed, mind scrambling to wrap itself around this new concept. In a lower voice, averting his eyes, Jaewan continues.

“I can’t leave,” he mumbles, shrugging a little. “Like Bumhyeon says, there’s no market for supports out there- especially one like me? You hear what they say, I only get to be here because you are,” he laughs darkly. “My best bet overseas is offering myself to some team in EU or the NACS and dying in obscurity. I’m not-…just not too hot about going out like that, you know what I mean?”

“That’s not what happened to Sehyung.”

Jaewan lets out a barking laugh. “Look me in the eye and tell me if I’ll ever be as good as Mata is. Look at the others, Junsik-ah, look at Madlife and Hachani. Sehyung’s an exception.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Junsik stares at him. “What, were you planning to just-…stop?”

“I was just thinking, if I’m going to,” Jaewan gestures feebly. “ _Fade into irrelevance_ , and all, I’d rather do it for people who matter, you know? I wanted to-…” he hesitates, knowing how stupid this is going to sound. “I was thinking of shoutcasting. Or interviews. Or even, you know, trying my luck at professional streaming, with the practice we’re getting now. I could try for a degree, my mom would probably be proud,” he chuckles weakly. “I don’t know.”

“That’s it?” Junsik blinks. Jaewan feels a stab of hurt, for a moment, before he continues. “Why didn’t you just say so? Streaming’s cool, we’re building a viewership now, anyway-…”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“You _are_ going overseas, right?”

Junsik sighs a little, here, turning away, and it’s Jaewan who’s waiting in clipped silence for his response, now. “I don’t know.”

“I think-…” Jaewan halts uneasily, here, unsure of how to broach the subject. It’s not often that they’re in this position, when they’re usually able to read each other's’ minds like they’re breathing. “I think you should go.”

“Why? Because of the money? The _life experience_ ? So I can be told I’m _not living_ because I’m not going home with a ton of girls every night, or buying ugly expensive ass shirts and $2k Fendi bags I can throw on the floor?” Junsik rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you want it so much, Jaewan-ah.”

“I just,” Jaewan mumbles after a pause, shrugging a little. “Want. You to get,” he looks away, trailing off. “Good things, you know. For yourself.”

A small part of Jaewan wishes he weren’t alive. Or at least in the mosh pit of a Kana Hanazawa concert in Tokyo. The latter would be preferred.

“Tch,” Junsik says, and there’s warmth in his voice, something telling Jaewan that the conversation’s over, not because there’s nothing else to say, but because they already know. “You know. It’ll be a long time till that happens-…until we get old and rusty, or one of us has a huge argument and severs all ties with Junggyun-hyung or something,” he lets that hang in the air for a while. “We’ve-…we’ve got time.”

“We’re going to have to think of it sooner or later,” the support shrugs. “I mean. Better take crash courses in English or Mandarin or stock up on contacts while we can, right?”

“The world will be different when we’re old, Jaewan-ah,” Junsik shrugs. “You know what they say. The boat will right itself when it reaches the harbour, or something.”

Jaewan chuckles faintly, then, and at the back of his mind, an old nightmare seems to die quietly.

“Okay.”

*

None of this explains how Jaewan finds himself stuck in an empty boardroom with Junsik next to him three days later.

“What did you do,” Junsik hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t see why it’s got to be _my_ fault,” Jaewan whispers irritably back.

“You made a comment about Junggyun-hyung never finding a wife again, didn’t you.”

“That was _one time_ , for _heaven's sake_ -…”

“Boys,” Junggyun’s voice cuts through the stifling silence as he walks in, and the botlane stiffen with incredible sync. “So,” he drops a file on the table, folding his arms and surveying both of them across the table with the slightly uncomfortable but resentfully determined air of a father about to give his sons The Talk. “There’s been talk going around that found its way to me.”

“It wasn’t us,” Junsik says. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Jaewan. He doesn’t do much other than eat and play games now.”

“You know,” this seems to pain Junggyun to say a lot, and with the apologetic glances he keeps sending Jaewan’s way, the support’s mind can’t help but run wild.

_This is it. Effort is taking over. I’m going to be a glorified bench warmer for the rest of summer. Sungu and I are going on fried chicken runs during Bo5s. Haneul, Junhyung and I will form a book club and analyse poetry in the regular season._

“I heard,” Junggyun says, with a poor attempt at a pointed glance (this is why he can’t find a girlfriend). “Talk about you. Discussing your leave for America.”

Jaewan’s wholly impressed by their coach’s detective skills for like, 5 seconds. Then he’s just annoyed.

“It was Sanghyeok, wasn’t it,” he says drily.

“That’s not the point,” Junggyun squints at both of them. “Also, it was Wangho.”

Junsik lets out a disparaging little breath, cracking his knuckles quietly.

“We’re not leaving, hyung, we were just,” Jaewan reassures, glances over and noting the mildly homicidal look on his lane partner’s face. He wonders if he should warn Wangho in advance (probably not- Wangho did contribute to the Diamond 1 thing, after all). “Discussing retirement.”

“That’s it? Retirement?” Junggyun looks skeptical.

“Yeah, you know,” Jaewan says placatingly. “What to do when you kick us out. Or find a wife. Whichever comes first.”

The celebrity coach scowls, clearly not buying into it. “It sounded serious, the way you were talking. You know Wangho’s wary of situations like this, with what happened back then.”

“I was being serious,” the support replies truthfully. “Wangho’s not wrong.”

“Then why talk about it now? Retirement won’t be for a while,” Junggyun looks more confused than anything now, and Jaewan looks over at Junsik for a moment.

“I just,” he hesitates. “Wanted to make sure we uh. That we were thinking the same thing.”

“That you were in the same boat?”

“No, just. On the same page.”

There’s a pause, as Junggyun tries to understand. “Okay,” he says, gentler now. “Well, you’ll have a lot of time to think about that. Don’t discuss these things so loudly without context, you’ll scare the rest. I think they really thought you guys were going to leave.”

“We’ll explain,” Junsik’s the one to say it this time. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Make sure you do,” their coach squints, grabbing his folder and turning around. “Now get back to practice. And if you make one more joke about my marriage again, Jaewan…” he eyes the support, before leaving the room.

“Or lack thereof,” Jaewan whispers under his breath.

Junsik snorts. “You know one day he’s going to stab you with a keyboard for that.”

“Who’ll be around to save your ass on the rift, then?”

“You say that like you’re indispensable.”

Jaewan raises a brow at Junsik. “You say that like I’m not.”

The AD carry lets out a barking laugh as he stands, the support following suit. Jaewan’s already thinking of the practice they’ve got ahead of them for the night, and the matches in the coming week.

“To me, maybe,” Junsik says, warmly condescending as they head for the elevators. “So don’t get us both fired, asshole.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are greatly appreciated thank you all for being amazing human beings ily 


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